


loud bright too much (warm safe calm okay)

by Garecc, Gunpowderdtim (Garecc)



Series: Ready, Aim, Fire [34]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: (Tim uses he/him), (some implied jonny/tim slash but nothing obvious), Eyes, Fluff, Gen, Genderfluid Gunpowder Tim (The Mechanisms), Immortals, Pre-Slash, Sensory Overload, Sleep, Sleep Deprivation, Tea, canon-typical threats of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garecc/pseuds/Garecc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garecc/pseuds/Gunpowderdtim
Summary: Tim's eyes are horrible, he can't sleep because they're making everything very bright. So he gets up and runs into Jonny in the kitchen.
Relationships: Jonny d'Ville & Gunpowder Tim
Series: Ready, Aim, Fire [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799860
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57





	loud bright too much (warm safe calm okay)

**Author's Note:**

> :)

He just wanted some darkness.

He just wanted to stop seeing for a single moment.

A single moment.

Just a second.

Even with his head buried in a pillow, he just kept _seeing_.

Every fiber in the pillow, every stray speck of dust.

All of it in perfect detail.

He couldn’t even shut them off.

He couldn’t even blink.

He pressed the pillow further against his face.

Normal eyes stop seeing if you press on them.

Normal eyes can shut.

Normal eyes can _stop seeing_.

His eyes are cameras. And they just refocus.

Every millisecond a new frame. A new image seared into his mind.

No matter how he his his head.

His eyes are cameras. Are inorganic. They keep seeing, even if all they see is blurry darkness. 

He just wanted to _sleep_.

He was so tired.

They were glitching again. The night filter stuck on.

No matter how dark he made it, it was as bright as having every light in his room on.

He was so, so tired. 

He's in bed, face pressed into the pillows and yet he still _sees_.

He wants to break them. To stab at the cameras until they break and the input stops and he can have some _peace._

But that would make them hurt. 

And he can't sleep when they hurt anyway.

He should just shoot himself and hope when he wakes up they aren't as bad.

But shooting yourself is messy, bloody, and honestly hurts just as much as his eyes to now, so he doesn't see the point. 

So he lays there. Exhausted and yet he can't sleep.

He gets up in the morning. If you consider about 4 am morning. His entire body feels heavy and he's so tired.

So fucking tired.

But he can't take it anymore.

Can't _deal with this._

The same pillow fibers same fabric of the blankets around his bed the same everything in too clear detail.

There is already too much sensory wise, but he’s been looking at the same thing for too long and he needs something _different._

He gets up.

He gets some tea. The world too bright even as Aurora mercifully keeps the lights off for him. Hands fumbling with the kettle as he fills it.

He would talk to Aurora if he didn't think he'd die if he heard a sound much louder than the clinking of dishware.

Even the dishware was too loud. Every clink was another knife in his head.

He's in the kitchen before Jonny. A rare thing, given Jonny, wakes up too fucking early to be justified by anyone’s standards.

He puts his head down at the table as he waits for the kettle, and starts memorizing the grain of the wood.

He wants to sleep.

Unfortunately, when you physically cannot stop seeing, thats rather difficult.

The kettle hadn’t even gone off when Jonny stumbled in. "Aurora _why_ are the lights off?" He snarls, tripping over something or another. 

Tim winces sharply at the sound, mourning the calmness being over.

He has a headache.

"Because Tim wants them off." Aurora answers, voice sharp but not quite accusatory. 

Tim curled tighter over his arms. 

"Tim- Tim isn't even here!" Jonny snaps as he fumbles with the light switch. 

Light fills the room and there's a stabbing pain in Tim’s skull as it's bright and it _hurts_ and he presses his palms over his eyes and- and the light is gone a moment later.

Doesn't change the fact his head is spinning.

He's so tired.

"Tim?" Jonny's voice is tentative. "Fuck- I didn't realize you were in here."

That was the closest thing to an apology he was getting.

"'S alright." Tim mumbles through his arms. 

"...are your eyes...?" 

"Yeah." 

Jonny puts a hand on his shoulder for all of half a second, before pulling back and sitting across from him.

"Lights all messed up. 'S so bright Jonny." Even with his head buried in his arms, he still saw everything in perfect detail. Every thread in his shirt, every pore on his skin. 

This was hell.

"Ah. You sound like shit."

"Mmnmn"

"Did you sleep at all?"

"Maybe? No." 

Jonny exhaled audibly. "Do you want me to just shoot you?"

Tim doesn't have an answer so he's just quiet.

"Might fix your eyes." Jonny adds, like that makes it any more appealing to be shot when you have a headache. 

The kettle starts and Tim jolts, hands snapping over his ears at the sound.

_Too goddamn loud._

“Tim ah-” Jonny starts then shuts up as he sees Tims’s pose. The kettle is off a second later as Jonny darts across the kitchen.

“Sensory bullshit?” Jonny’s voice is hardly above a whisper. Tim mumbles something of an affirmative and curls tighter into his arms.

“Can I talk or do I need to sign?”

Tim shrugs. “Talk. But _quietly_ please?”

Jonny nods sharply. 

Tim’s seen Nastya shoot everyone in a room when Jonny flinches sound, and the look he’s giving Tim is one thats mostly pity.

If someone had asked him if Jonny would willingly be quiet to spare him a headache before all of this, Tim would have scoffed and called you insane.

Jonny’s not enough of an asshole to poke at someone when sound makes them flinch.

At least not him.

Tim thought they were friends.

Hoped they were friends at least.

“Right then. Pronouns and what’s with your eyes?”

“He/him and the fucking… dark vision shit is stuck on.”

“Do you want me to look at them? Could just be a screw being loose or something..”

Tim shrugs. “I don't know.”

“Usually shooting you fixes them.”

“I know. But I have a headache Jonny.”

“How about I shoot you and get you to a couch or something while you're out?”

“Why do you want to shoot me so badly?”

“Because you look like shit.”

Tim tries to look incredulous, but mostly just looks absolutely exhausted. “I think I need to fucking… recalibrate them.”

“Ah.”

“And thats- sensory hell and I’m already..” Tim trails off. 

“I could maybe—”

“Jonny, If you're about to say break them, _no_.”

Jonny stops. Bites his lip and shakes his hands a few times at Tim wordlessly. 

“Well.. Have you tried shaking your head really fast? You once said—”

“ _Yes._ ”

“What about hitting your head?”

“Jonny they’ve been like this all night _yeah I’ve tried the usual shit._ ”

“How long will recali-whatever take?”

“Too long. Also it hurts.”

“Mm. I think you should just let me shoot you.”

“Jonny, no.”

“Jonny yes?”

“Jonny.”

Jonny stood up. “Your waters getting cold. Were you making tea?”

“..Yeah.”

“What kind?” 

“I don't care.”

Jonny audibly rolls his eyes and Tim winces at the clinking of dishes as Jonny went about making him his tea.

“How much sugar?”

“A spoon and a bit.”

“Milk?”

“I’d shoot you if you put milk in my tea.”

“Ashes likes milk.” Jonny started, voice raising above the careful quiet tone he’d been using. “Nastya occasionally does so how am I-”

“You're getting loud.” Tim interrupted. 

“Shit, um.” Jonny’s voice dropped immediately. “How am I supposed to know how you like your tea?”

“You’ve watched me make it a million times.”

“Fuck you,” Jonny grumbled. “Do you want a cookie or some shit? Ceral or whatever its called? A muffin? Brian made some last night.”

“Muffin.”

Jonny set the muffin and tea in front of him, and Tim began the process of picking at it.

He managed to drink most of the tea and eat half the muffin before another wave of exhaustion hit him and he curled back into his arms. 

“..You done?”

“Mm.” Tim replied.

“Maybe?”

“Mmhm.”

“I’m going to put the muffin on a plate and write your name on it in case you want it later.”

“Ok.”

Tim winced at the clinking of dishware, but didn't complain.

"I just want to sleep." He whispered when Jonny sat down again. “I’m so fucking tired.”

Jonny made a sympathetic sound that Tim knew he'd never admit to. "Right. Let's get you back to your room then."

"I _can't_ sleep."

"It's no use sitting in here, though. Beds are more comfortable than tables. And Ashes’ll be awake in a half hour or so, also I doubt everyone'll take kindly to dark breakfast."

“Mmm.” was Tims's response.

Jonny pulled Tim to his feet and walked him back to his room.

  
  


///

  
  


Jonny tried to ignore how the fact they were holding hands made his cheeks heat up a bit. 

Tim was practically dead on his feet as they walked.

He wasn't kidding with that he was tired. 

Very tired.

Tim was bleary and Jonny hoped he could lift him if he decided to crumple.

But they got to Tims’s room alright, and Tim collapsed into his bed.

Jonny slowly sat next to him. Put a hand on his side.

For a moment they sat there, then Tim with seemingly no hesitation dragged Jonny down after him. Jonny yelped, crashing into the bed.

“Tim,” Jonny started but didn't fight as Tim dragged a blanket over them and buried his head into Jonny’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Tim responded by mumbling something entirely incoherent.

“..Do you want me to stay?”

Tim had presumably fallen asleep, or was faking, or too tired to respond, as he just sort of layed there wordlessly.

“Well, as you're asleep, I guess I’m staying.” Jonny exhaled slowly, and got himself comfortable.

If Tim wanted to cling to him he wasn't going to just _leave._

He pulled the blankets over Tim properly. Not wanting him to get cold, before patting Tim’s side a few times.

He cared about him.

Genuinely fucking cared.

He tried to bite off that stupid sense of guilt. Yeah, Tim’s eyes are shit, and thats kind of his fault, but Tim’s not mad, and it's _fine._

It's fine.

And if he pulls Tim a bit closer and presses half of a kiss to the side of Tim's head, well, thats for no one but him to know.

**Author's Note:**

> :3


End file.
